Tiger Lily
by dvinegypsy
Summary: A depressed Kitty Russell finds comfort in an unexpected place. **WARNING** This is a Kitty Russell/Cara Stewart (OC) femslash story & some chapters skirt the border of "T" & "M." If you ship Matt & Kitty as an entirely monogamous, unmarried couple, this may not be the fic for you. There is a fic out there for everyone. If you are still here, enjoy!
1. Midnight

She had had more to drink than was customary, and she was feeling it. What she wanted was not to feel. "Sam, another whiskey," Kitty ordered, as she looked over her books.

Sam, failing to hide his look of concern, poured her another. "Miss Kitty, would you like me to get you some hardboiled eggs? What about a glass of water?" Sam asked. Grasping his gentle attempt to slow her down, she flashed him a knowing grin, then gave a curt nod of assent. He was only looking out for her, after all.

It wasn't like Matt to be gone this long without a word. She was worried, she realized, taking another sip of her fourth whiskey of the night. Sam dropped her off something to nibble on while Kitty watched her girls work the room. When one of her newer girls, Estelle, raised herself from her seat to saunter up the stairs of The Long Branch to her room with a gentleman's hand on the small of her back, Kitty perceived the other reason she was missing Matt Dillon…and it irked her. "If I haven't heard from him by next week, he'd better be dead," she grumbled under her breath, because if he isn't, he will be," she finished. Just at that moment, she felt a gentle squeeze of her upper arm and her newest girl pulled up a chair next to her. If she hadn't been so beautiful, Kitty would never have hired her. Now that she had seen her work, she truly appreciated the terrible mistake she had almost made. Nothing the girl had actually done had provoked Kitty's ire, it was simply the girl's unfortunate name that bothered her.

"Hello, Cara," she said with a smile.

"Kitty," Cara answered, beaming.

She really was beautiful, Kitty noted. Men had even fewer qualms than usual with buying drinks whenever Cara Stewart was around. She was perhaps 20 years old, but came with a wealth of quiet experience that belied her years, putting her clients at ease with her infectious laughter, gregarious nature, and genuine smile. She even occasionally entertained men upstairs, when she was of a mind to. Cara reminded Kitty of herself when she was her age. Being that Kitty was now 26, she considered herself an old hat at the saloon trade. She no longer entertained in her room, not since she became the proprietress of The Long Branch, and especially not since her 'arrangement' with Matt. Kitty huffed and took another sip of whiskey. She'd been at it for a while, she could tell. The whiskey was creating a slow burning sensation in her throat and belly.

"Kitty, if you'd don't mind me saying so, isn't it a little early for you to be so far into that bottle of rye?" Cara asked quietly, a look of companionable concern on her face. Kitty regarded her with something between disbelief and disdain. She looked her in the eyes, sizing her up, and after a moment or two was satisfied that Cara wasn't being judgmental and hadn't meant her any disrespect. Nodding slightly, Kitty took another sip of her whiskey, never taking her eyes from Cara's. She was about Kitty's height and build, but with creamy, porcelain skin, and none of the freckles that Kitty so hated about her own complexion. Cara's eyes were a greenish-blue, framed by dark, perfectly arched brows. Her raven-colored tresses were pinned back in up-swept waves that shone in the lantern light. Smiling back at Kitty, Cara levelled her green-blue gaze at her sapphire one. She looked like skinny-dipping in a spring-fed pool on a moonlit night, thought Kitty. Closing her eyes, Kitty rubbed her temples.

"Cara, shouldn't you be entertaining some of these nice gentlemen?" Kitty prodded, slowly motioning toward the saloon populace.

"Of course, Miss Kitty," she answered dutifully. "It's just…," Cara continued, "you aren't yourself tonight," she finished, her neatly arched brows furrowed. Cara's pointed shift to formality had not gone unnoticed.

"Oh? And just who I am tonight, if I'm not myself?" Kitty asked, half-aggravated, half-amused.

"It's like you're waiting for something or someone. You keep looking at the door," Cara ventured.

Caught off guard by her forthrightness and seemingly sincere concern, Kitty shut down. Pitching her a shrewd glance, Kitty took aim and fired.

"Cara, I pay you to do a job here. While it is kind of you to check on me, I'd prefer if you spent your time doing what it is that I pay you to do," Kitty spat. She'd been nasty and she'd regretted her words the moment they'd left her mouth.

Cara nodded in assent, eyes downcast. When she looked up again the sparkle had left her eyes, its departure transforming them to deep green. Her beautiful mouth, painted crimson, had turned down at the corners almost imperceptibly. Biting her full bottom lip delicately, Cara strode out onto the parlor floor. It was only a matter of minutes before she had captured the entirety of The Long Branch in her thrall, excepting the men who had regular girls. Cara had been working for Kitty for nearly three weeks, arriving not long after Matt had left for Hayes City, and from day one it had been a pleasure to watch her work the room. She resolved to apologize to the girl when the saloon closed its doors for the night. It wasn't Cara's fault that she was in such a foul mood and she knew that she shouldn't have taken it out on her. Yet, Matt's prolonged absence had her on edge in a way that it never had before. He always tried to send word, but this time he hadn't, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit.

"Sam…another," Kitty ordered, watching Cara talk with four men at once. Smiling here, touching an arm there, Cara made them all simultaneously feel special. She was good, Kitty mused, _very_ good. Her training seemed much more extensive than what Wichita should have been able to offer her. Also, there was something so familiar about Cara's mannerisms, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. Kitty nursed her water as she tried and failed again to put her finger on just what it was that was so familiar about her. She resolved to ask her more about her prior experience when she got the chance. That was when it happened.

"I asked her first, Jed!" shouted a man Kitty had never met before, taking Cara's arm roughly into his hand.

"Let 'er go, Bill!" shouted Jed, taking Cara's other arm into his own hand.

Kitty rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, sighing before downing her remaining whiskey and rising unceremoniously from her table.

"Boys, there's enough to go around, I can assure you," Kitty cajoled as she walked up, winking amicably at the quarrelling men.

"But Miss Kitty, I asked her first, and he won't turn her loose," Jed offered.

"That true, Bill?" Kitty asked, having caught his name from the heated argument. Cocking her head to the side, she regarded him with her hands on her hips. She cut quite the figure in her deep blue dress, her glossy red hair and elaborate hairpins glinting in the lantern light.

"It's a load of nonsense, Miss Kitty!" Bill asserted. "Cara told me yesterday that she'd see me tonight."

"Cara?" Kitty asked, eyebrows raised, her scarlet lips arranged in a smirk for the ages.

"Miss Kitty, I did tell Bill that I'd entertain him tonight," Cara revealed.

"There. Then, it's settled," said Kitty. "Jed, there are several other lovely ladies here who could keep you company tonight if you're of a mind," Kitty declared with a smile. Bill pulled at Cara, but Jed wouldn't relinquish his hold on her right arm.

"But Miss Kitty, Bill said he's gonna pay for the rest of her evening just for spite," Jed sulked.

"Well, if you two can't come to an agreement like men and let her go, I suppose I'll have to send her up to her room alone tonight. Cara has already told us who her night was promised to," Kitty finished, having lost her patience. She'd had her fill of grown men acting like petulant boys. When neither man moved to release the girl, Kitty stalked closer.

" _Turn her loose_ ," she commanded slowly in a tone of deadly calm, staring each man down in turn with a look that silently dared them to defy her edict. Slowly, both Jed and Bill released Cara from their grip, which at one point had been so tight that there were now bruises on her pale arms. Kitty didn't miss a trick, shooting them both contemptuous looks as she seethed with anger.

"Cara, come on," Kitty coaxed with authority, reaching a delicate hand out to the girl. Cara flashed her an appreciative smile and, taking her proffered hand, allowed herself to be led up the staircase to the landing, safely away from the ruckus below.

"Cara, honey, I'm sorry I had to do that," said Kitty as she unlocked her own bedroom door. "I know you agreed to spend the evening with Bill, but judging from the marks already left on your wrists I think it might be best if you turn in early tonight." Opening the door for Cara, Kitty followed her in, locking the door behind them and lighting the lamp on her dresser and nightstand before she continued. "Under different circumstances, I'd send you to your own room, but there are still several hours before we close tonight and I want to be sure that the building is clear before I send you to your room alone," Kitty concluded wisely.

"Thank you, Kitty," said Cara, rubbing the bruises on her wrists gingerly, and looking away as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Seeing her distress, Kitty once again remembered how unkindly she had treated her earlier in the evening.

"Cara…I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I…I didn't mean it. You guessed right," Kitty revealed, her brows knitted in concern as she took in Cara's countenance. Looking down and passing her tongue over her teeth, she added, "You hit the nail on the head and I didn't like it, I didn't like it one bit." Cara tried out a smile, to which Kitty responded in kind. "Have a nightcap with me?" Kitty offered. "We might as well. We'll be stuck in here until we close for the night."

Wiping her eyes, Cara responded, "I can think of nothing I'd like more than to hide out in your room until the coast is clear." Regarding Kitty through long lashes she smirked, and casting her trepidation aside, sauntered over to her. Cara's black trimmed dress of deep purple swished as she walked. A moment later, Kitty was relieved of one glass of whiskey. Eyeing her over the rim of her newly procured glass, Cara took a deep swig of her rye and pensively bit her lower lip.

"Kitty, can I ask you something?" she ventured.

"I suppose you can," Kitty answered playfully, with her trademark smirk.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"I suppose that I am," she laughed. It was a low chuckle that Cara found pleasing to the ear. Kitty's sapphire eyes sparkled mischievously in the lamp light. "Do you think the boys downstairs could tell?" Kitty questioned.

"Not a chance," Cara assured with a genuine smile. "Without the marshal here to protect them, they were afraid for their lives going up against the likes of you!" she added, with a throaty chuckle. Kitty tried to return her laughter, but it was half-hearted. Cara had unknowingly struck another chord.

"Why don't you take men upstairs anymore?" Cara asked matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her whiskey, and eyeing Kitty intently over the top of her glass. Kitty paused for a moment before giving her reply.

"I don't need to," she revealed. "When you own the outfit you have more say in who you spend your time with," she quipped with a wink. It was an honest answer that fell short of divulging anything about her relationship with Matt Dillon. After all, their arrangement fell short of a typical relationship in most ways, excepting the mutual affection.

"They still talk about you, you know," Cara offered with a knowing grin.

"Oh, do they now?" Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow. She had to admit that she was intrigued. It had been a long while since she heard anyone mention her past as one of the Long Branch girls in a way that wasn't derisive. Getting comfortable, Cara took off her shoes, hiked her dress, and crossed her legs Indian style on Kitty's bed, while Kitty pulled up the chair where she normally hung the clothing she planned to wear to work later that night.

"They say you were the best Dodge had ever seen," Cara continued, smiling. Kitty found herself fixated on the girl's full lips as she related the deliciously naughty escapades recounted to her by her various patrons. Kitty remembered some of the more interesting scenarios, though most of them had been long forgotten. Once painted a rich carmine, the rim of her whiskey glass had worn Cara's lip color down to a muted rose. Kitty decided that it was becoming.

"Well, that was a long time ago," Kitty mused aloud. "They have new interests now," she added, nodding meaningfully in Cara's direction.

"Not so long ago, Kitty," Cara corrected. "There are some even now who would take you over me if they had the chance," she said with a smirk.

"I very much doubt that," Kitty scoffed, "though I appreciate your saying so."

"Oh, Kitty, you can't be serious? Out here on the dull prairie you're like…," Cara struggled to make a comparison, brow furrowed, "like…I don't know…like a tiger lily growing in the muck and dust."

"And how's that exactly?" Kitty asked, a smile of amusement spreading across her gorgeous face. She'd seen tiger lilies before. They were most often a burnt orange, speckled with dark beauty marks. Flattered, she decided that she liked the comparison.

"Familiar, but…," Cara fumbled, "…still exotic and wild." Struggling to put her thoughts into words, Cara went quiet. After only a moment she continued, "You're a scarlet sunset in a winter sky and these boys know it," she finished.

Surprised by Cara's words, but not displeased, Kitty felt the beginnings of a small blush spreading across her cheeks. Taking a pensive sip of her whiskey, Kitty favored the girl with a genuine smile.

"Keep that up, Cara, and I might start to get the wrong idea," Kitty teased.

"…or the right one," Cara corrected boldly, her blue-green eyes surveying Kitty as she bit her bottom lip.

Kitty chuckled openly and Cara laughed. It was a clear, pleasant, but unruly laugh that tumbled over itself like falling water. Kitty decided in that moment that she liked the girl, despite her name.

"Cara, help me out of this contraption, would you?" she asked. "I think I need to turn in for the night. My head is swimming."

Rising from the bed, Cara made her way over the chair where Kitty sat. She gently helped her get to her feet and walked her to her own bed, their skirts swishing against each other. Perching Kitty on the edge of her bed, Cara slowly, carefully began to unbutton, unfasten, and untie the various articles of clothing holding Kitty Russell in place, tethering her to this world. As each piece of armor was removed, Kitty felt lighter, but not happier. She stared off into space, an air of sadness settling upon her visage. Her eyes had gone a midnight blue so dark that Cara would have thought they were brown if she hadn't known better. She swallowed hard. This woman was too beautiful, too kind, too intelligent, and still too young to be this miserable. When she'd peeled off every layer, until only her underclothes remained, she deposited Kitty's garments across the chair back. Returning to the edge of the bed, she turned Kitty so that her back was angled toward the lamp on the nightstand. Content that she would both be able to reach and see well enough to remove her hairpins, Cara set to work, casually hiking her dress in order to straddle one of Kitty's pale thighs as she began to gently unpin the flickering embers that comprised her hair by lantern light. Taking Kitty's hair down would have been easier from behind, but there wouldn't have been sufficient light from one side, and she would have blocked the light with her body from the other, Cara reasoned. She needed to be close enough to reach behind Kitty without obstructing the light in the room. Pin by pin, her hair spilled softly over her lightly freckled shoulders in deep copper waves. She was what most men would have described as beautiful in her riding clothes during the day, just as she was a vision in her dance-hall dresses at night, but what she was right now, in the privacy of her bedroom by lantern light, was nothing short of absolutely stunning. Cara's breath caught in her throat as she realized she'd never seen a more beautiful woman. Her fingers began to tremble as she continued to unpin Kitty's long hair, though she consciously slid each loosened pin curl languidly across Kitty's back and shoulders, purposefully tickling and caressing her bare skin. It was how she'd been taught to do this all those years ago. It was as relaxing as it was titillating, she realized, Kitty's soft tresses sliding between her fingers. The last time she had done this for a madam had been when she was but a girl. She remembered having had a distinct desire to please, but that was the only type of desire she'd felt. She was still a bit young to have enjoyed giving herself to men then, though it wasn't that she hadn't yet lain with any. She'd been sold to the highest bidder at eleven years old. Most had considered it a kindness for the madam to have waited that long, but she had always looked out for Cara in her way. She had been the closest thing that Cara had had to a mother, and helping her get ready for bed each night was one of the few duties that she remembered fondly as part of her preparation for life in a brothel.

As a woman performing the same act for another woman, a strikingly beautiful woman nearly her own age, it felt different somehow. Kitty was a madam in her own right, but she had been just like Cara once. They would have understood one another. Cara regarded Kitty covertly, as she continued her work. She would have looked about the same, Cara deduced, as she allowed herself to ruminate on what Kitty would have been like during her years as a saloon girl. Her added years would have filled her out, though, Cara decided, giving her the slightly more rounded curves and womanly softness which Cara still somewhat lacked. Sliding each flaming tendril across Kitty's bare skin as it fell, she moved on to the next pin. It was only when she'd nearly finished that she'd realized Kitty had been staring up at her intently and for some time. She eyed her with such intensity in her deep blue eyes that it was nearly disconcerting. It was almost as if she'd never seen Cara before and was trying to catalogue everything about her in case she never saw her again. All at once, Cara became acutely aware of the fact that she was straddling her manager's thigh alone in her room after a whiskey nightcap, and having undressed her down to her underthings. The smoldering wildfire of her locks finally loosed from their confines, Cara's mouth went dry. Her eyes locked with Kitty's for mere seconds, spanning what felt like an eternity. She was overcome by a confusing, elicit feeling that burned low in her core, causing her heart to beat nearly out of her chest. As she moved to pull away, taking the final hairpin with her, Kitty deftly caught her wrist. It startled Cara and she winced in slight pain. She wanted to run, but she didn't dare move a muscle. Realizing she was hurting her, Kitty loosened her grip with an apologetic expression. She had forgotten the girl's bruises in her eagerness to uncover the truth.

"Cara…you didn't learn this in Wichita," Kitty declared astutely. "Where did you come from? I mean, where were you trained to be a saloon girl?" Kitty felt excited and anxious, believing in her heart that she already knew the answer.

"I worked in Wichita for a few years," Cara stammered. "Before that, I worked in four or five saloons across Texas," she added, "but I guess I learned the trade proper in New Orleans," she revealed, "at the Gilded Lily." She stood a little straighter, her own thick, black mane beginning to fall from its pins, delicately framing the look of uncertainty on her exquisite face.


	2. Disillusion

It was just as she'd thought. Everything fit. All of Cara's mannerisms reminded Kitty of her own because they _were_ her own. No one worked a room like a Gilded Lily girl, a fact that Kitty knew personally because she had been one herself.

"Cara…," Kitty said quietly, surveying her through deep blue eyes. Slowly raising Cara's wrist to her lips, she placed a gentle kiss where she'd hurt her just moments before. "Je suis une fille du lys dorée aussi," she revealed with a warm smile.

Cara responded with a bright smile, kissing both of Kitty's cheeks quickly in a familiar greeting that Kitty hadn't experienced in years, but stopping short of the final one. The French would kiss each other on the cheeks three times, always ending on the same cheek from whence they began. Neither Kitty nor Cara were French, but being originally from New Orleans both would have had French ancestry, and both would have had numerous French clientele at the Gilded Lily. As such, it was custom between the Lily girls to greet each other in this way. Cara paused abruptly before the third kiss. Kitty had tears in her eyes that threatened to fall in earnest. It was only a moment of hesitation, but as a professional Cara knew what she needed to do, and she'd never been happier to do it. Stopping short of Kitty's cheek, she instead planted a kiss square on her lips. It was a slow, tingling kiss full of healing, and tinged with passion. Squeezing her own eyes shut, she used her smooth, cool hands to gently wipe away Kitty's tears before running her fingers lightly through her copper hair as she tried to deepen the kiss. Kitty was still. When Cara opened her eyes, Kitty's stared back, shocked and unblinking. She hadn't returned the kiss. That was when panic set in. Letting go of her face, Cara held her breath, her stomach twisting in knots. How could she have read this so wrong? Alarmed and embarrassed, she looked away, her own tears of confusion and disappointment stinging her eyes.

"Kitty, I'm sorry. I thought…" she stammered, still looking away.

Wrapping her arms around Cara's small waist, Kitty pointed her toes against the floor to raise her knee higher. Then, sliding her hands downward she cupped Cara's backside and pulled down on her hips, gradually drawing her in while deliberately grazing her sex down the thigh she still straddled. Cara gave a sharp intake of breath and, pausing, Kitty searched her face.

"Cara, you don't have to do this," Kitty began. "I'm your boss and your friend, but this could never be more than that. It would be unfair for me to ask it of you," she sighed. "Of course, I will compensate you for the wages you lost tonight, but you needn't feel as though you owe me anything for protecting you. That is part of my job, what I would do for any of my girls. I just want to be sure that you know you aren't beholden to me in any way," Kitty finished.

As Cara's seemingly impassioned gaze morphed into one of utter relief, Kitty felt a tinge of regret. It had been nice to feel important to someone for a change. While he had always made her feel desirable, her history with Matt Dillon had been fraught with angst and disappointment. No matter what, with him it always felt as though she came second, and while she loved him unreservedly, she still occasionally wondered how her life might have been different had he chosen to devote himself to her, instead of to upholding the law all over the entire blasted territory. Cara, on the other hand, had been so thoughtful, mindful enough of Kitty's feelings to perceive her sadness from the start of the night, and she hadn't been too timid to ask after her, a quality that Kitty valued in a friend. She knew herself well enough to know that she could be prickly. Lastly, she had to admit that Cara's attentions were as intriguing as the girl was physically captivating. Exhaling, she made up her mind to dismiss Cara to her room with the money she would have earned had she been allowed to entertain that evening, ultimately deciding that leveraging her influence over Cara for the sake of a tryst was disdainful. It would have been a selfish abuse of her power that she really couldn't stomach, no matter how much she missed Matt.

"You really love him, don't you?" Cara asked astutely in a low, serious tone that shook Kitty from her reverie.

"Yes…I do," Kitty replied, "though I sometimes wish that I didn't," she finished truthfully, with a fond chuckle. She wasn't sure if Cara yet knew to whom she referred, but it didn't matter. She would find out soon enough from one of the other girls, or when he returned from Hayes City… _if_ he returned at all. Her brow furrowed at the thought. The idea that something might have happened to him and that, despite her all her love, he might never come back was almost too much for her to bear.

Before she realized it, she was being lowered onto her back with Cara climbing atop her. Gently taking Kitty's right hand into her own, she guided it beneath her hiked dress.

"Cara…really, you don't have to…," Kitty stammered, falling silent the moment her hand made contact with the apex of Cara's thighs. As Kitty had already noticed when she'd pulled her close, Cara hadn't bothered to wear bloomers. This little piece of foresight would have been in preparation for what she'd thought her evening with Bill would bring. Kitty's mouth went dry and she swallowed hard.

"I've never known a woman like you," Cara began. "A woman with your fire and beauty shouldn't be left waiting or wanting for anything." Flashing her a lascivious smile Cara guided Kitty's delicate fingers to her opening, slowly sinking down onto one of them as she rolled her hips once against Kitty's palm. The soft moan Cara emitted caused goosebumps to cascade over Kitty's skin. She arched her back and deliberately ground herself against Kitty's hand, while staring her down. "Would you like me to do this to you?" she asked. "I could _be_ him for you, you know," she added. Kitty loosed a ragged breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Cara really wasn't a girl. Beneath that façade of youthful splendor, Kitty finally apprehended that she was all woman, and knew full well what she was doing.

"There isn't a dress in all of Dodge big enough to fit Matt Dillon," Kitty snorted, "and you're going to need bigger hands."

With a smoldering look, she removed Kitty's hand and, raising her trembling palm to her lips, kissed it softly. Then, sucking a finger into her mouth, she cleaned her essence from it while Kitty looked on. It was clear by then that coercion and obligation were as far removed from Cara's motivations as love was from Kitty's. She needed a distraction and Cara was nothing if not highly distracting.

"Oh, hell," Kitty said to no one in particular, taking the girl's face into her hands and kissing her with all the ardor she could muster.


	3. Dominion

**WARNING** This is a Kitty Russell/Cara Stewart (OC) femslash story & some chapters skirt the border of "T" & "M." If you ship Matt & Kitty as an entirely monogamous, unmarried couple of 19 years, this may not be the fic for you. There is a fic out there for everyone. If you are still here, enjoy!

"You taste like my good rye whiskey," Kitty drawled in a low voice full of amusement, punctuated with a smirk.

Cara, regarding her through heavy-lidded green-blue eyes and long lashes, slowly, deliberately licked her lips before replying, a sultry expression adorning her face.

"You taste like your good rye whiskey…and _me_ ," she quipped with a piercing look that verged on predatory. Kitty was used to being on the receiving end of those looks from men in general, or from Matt in the privacy of her room. Truth be told, she enjoyed them, but only when looks were all they were. She'd had cause for alarm in the past. It wasn't often, but occasionally patrons pretended to have forgotten that she no longer entertained upstairs. Either Kitty herself, Marshal Dillon, or Sam and his shotgun would make short work of them whenever the need arose. She rationalized that it felt in many ways much more flattering when Cara did it, than when a man did. Men were far less discerning than women when it came to someone who caught their eye. Get most men drunk enough and they'd eye a lamppost with just as much longing. Not a woman, though. Never a woman. Women always had tangible reasons for attraction, physical or otherwise. The lust in Cara's eyes was unmistakable, but something else there gave her pause. Still, every woman likes to feel pretty, even desirable, under the right circumstances. Cara was undeniably the prettiest girl in town, had a benevolent soul to match, and was wrapped in Kitty's arms. All at once, Kitty realized that she wasn't sure what to do. That wasn't to say that Kitty had never lain with a woman before. She'd done many things back in New Orleans all those years ago. This was different somehow. The occasional women she'd lain with at the Gilded Lily had come and gone. In fact, there had been barely a handful, each assignation only occurring once or twice before she never heard from them again. The women who rendezvoused with Kitty at the Lily dressed as men and treated their appointments like business transactions, even more so than did the men. She'd never thought much of entertaining them. It was her job. She had been well-trained for it, and paid handsomely for her discretion. Interestingly enough, and rather to Kitty's surprise, it wasn't entirely unpleasing, if a little unsettling, to have become the object of Cara's infatuation. With Matt, these looks of passionate longing did much more than flatter…they were the promise of what was to come when he had finished his rounds for the night, and they lit a fire in her core that burned achingly hotter and hotter until he mercifully extinguished it, night after night in her bed. Yet, being eyed in this way by a woman, a beautiful, feminine woman to boot, was something new and tantalizing. Cara Stewart was arguably the most beautiful woman Kitty had ever laid eyes on, which made it all the more flattering that she felt the same way about Kitty. However, Kitty had a nagging feeling of hesitation that went beyond how Matt might feel about this dalliance when he returned. She had a physical need to be with someone tonight, but she wouldn't allowed anything to go this far with any man other than Matt Dillon, and never imagined in a million years that another Gilded Lily girl would make her way to Dodge, or find herself in her bed.

"Kitty?" said Cara, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet," Kitty replied, smiling uneasily, a rarely-glimpsed look of embarrassment on her face. Cara gave her a warm smile.

"A blush is as handsome on your face as…," Cara began.

"Oh, stop that," Kitty scoffed, cutting her off. Leaning in, pressing her warm mouth to her neck, just below Kitty's ear, "…as the taste of me is enticing on your perfectly-shaped, crimson lips," Cara finished in a low tone. Kitty had to admit that while Cara was no Matt Dillon, she had it, whatever _it_ was. Sliding her hands down the sides of Kitty's bustier, she stopped at her waist, hooking her fingers into the top of Kitty's bloomers and pulling, grazing her fingernails lightly all the way down her thighs and legs as she removed them. When they'd dropped to the floor, Cara slid off of Kitty and her bed. Standing in front of her, she slowly, but deftly undressed in the flickering lamp light, depositing her purple dress on the chair with Kitty's, leaving her standing at the edge of Kitty's bed in only her corset, nude below the waist. She hadn't filled out completely as a woman, Kitty noted, but Cara had more curves than many women her age. This nymph who stared back at her wantonly through ocean-colored eyes set in flawless pale skin had the body of a woman, as well as a woman's needs. Cara's lips were full, soft, and already bruised by their earlier fevered kisses. It was a very good look on her, Kitty decided. Silently cocking her head to the side to admire her further, Kitty noted the roundness and weight of her breasts as she defiantly placed her hands on her hips, her blue-black tresses shining in the lamplight like silver draped in shadow...she was breathtaking. Swallowing hard, Kitty struggled and failed to find something appropriate to say. With a smirk and an imperious air, Cara stared her down appraisingly.

"Turn over," ordered Cara, her voice low and dangerous. It was unexpected and Kitty wasn't sure what to make of it. Apprehensively, she rolled over onto her stomach, her breath quickening as Cara abruptly pulled her onto all fours by the hips, the backs of Kitty's thighs resting against the front of Cara's own where she still stood at the edge of the bed. Gently stroking Kitty's long, copper-colored hair, Cara took it into her left hand, and lightly tugged. Using it for leverage, she adeptly drew Kitty's body to hers until the apex of her thighs rested flush against Cara's right hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kitty asked, somewhat breathless and with a hint of displeasure. At this point, there wasn't much in the trade that came as unexpected to Kitty Russell. The uncertainty was, she realized, as unnerving as it was exhilarating.

"Making this easier for you," Cara replied cryptically.


	4. Mercy

"Close your eyes," Cara began, as she planted several slow, wet kisses down Kitty's back. "Don't think. Breathe and surrender yourself to the feeling," she added softly.

Exhaling deeply, Kitty realized that she was no longer drunk enough to blame the situation in which she now found herself on whiskey. She missed Matt. She needed him and desperately wanted him to be in her room with her right now. This was not some act of revenge. Oh, she was angry all right, Kitty reasoned. She was upset with him for not having sent word, not having written or wired to say he was okay or when he would return to Dodge, …to her... His silence weighed upon her so heavily. She hated being so worried about him, especially knowing that their life together was unlikely to change in that respect. She knew she'd likely spend the rest of her days concerned for his safety, until the day he took off that damned badge, and then some, if they stayed in Kansas.

"You're still thinking," Cara chided amiably, her hand delicately caressing the softness between Kitty's thighs. "Relax… and let go," she instructed compassionately. Kitty exhaled again, leaning down onto her elbows and resting the side of her face against the bed. "Remember what they taught us at the Lily before we had our first assignation? What we needed to do?" Cara asked.

"I remember," said Kitty wistfully.

"Then do it," Cara urged. Try as she might, Kitty's hesitation was still written all over her in the tautness of her body, not unlike a certain cowboy's name was written all over her mind and heart, Cara supposed. She hated to see Kitty so twisted up into knots. Alas, she was old enough to know that this is what love sometimes did to people. Physical intimacy as a form of comfort was something she'd done for others in the past. It was one of the acts she enjoyed performing the most. It was a selfless and beautiful thing to help someone. The person contracting her services would have been hurting, arousal often not even coming to mind. He or she was typically experiencing some kind of emotional anguish so strong that it bordered on physical pain, sometimes even having physical side effects. The physical comfort and companionship helped to heal their emotional wounds and to move them past whatever was causing their torment. She hated seeing a woman as lovely and kind as Kitty suffering in this way. She didn't know what kind of man Matt Dillon was, but she did know that he must have been the honest type, and kind. In the limited time that she had known her, she couldn't see Kitty Russell suffering any man who wasn't both of those things. Chewing her bottom lip, she wondered what he looked like, Kitty's big marshal. He must really be something else. For him to have been able to catch her eye, and to keep her so completely, even when he wouldn't marry her, he must really be something, she mused. Assessing Kitty's body language again, the muscles of her back and thighs still so tight, Cara sighed heavily. Testing her again and deciding she still wasn't ready, Cara determined she needed to employ a new tactic. Smiling to herself, she attempted to break the tension.

"You're far too tense, Kitty. This can't be the first time you've done this," Cara asserted in a low, amused tone, her luscious lips curving into a knowing smirk. At that, Kitty laughed. It was a gloriously bawdy guffaw that threatened to pitch them both into fits of pealing laughter.

"Shhhhhhhush, Kitty!" Cara said in a low tone, attempting with only moderate success to suppress the titters bubbling up into her own throat. "Someone might hear! Use that folded blanket there at the bottom of the bed to muffle yourself. You're going to need it by the time I'm through with you," she finished, planting her left hand flat on Kitty's rear end in a scolding smack. Still chuckling, Kitty grabbed the folded blanket from the end of the bed and pulled it to her face. Unexpectedly, her breath caught, and any trace of laughter instantly died on her lips.

"Do it now," Kitty commanded in a low, sober tone. It was an order, as much as it was a plea. Twisting the blanket up into her fists, she buried her face in it, inhaling its intoxicating scent, a low moan escaping her lips as Cara complied.

Perhaps it was because of all the time he spent out on the trail, but Matt Dillon never used a pillow when he slept in her bed. Instead, he rested his head on this thin, folded blanket, when his head wasn't resting on her arm and chest, that is. Kitty often fell asleep that way, with her chin and cheek on top of his head, her face resting against his tousled hair, breathing in the scent of him. She had the sweetest dreams when they fell asleep holding each other. It had been with a jolt that Kitty had discovered the blanket still smelled just like him, even after all this time. Its natural perfume was no different from Matt's. It was a mixture of soap, the cologne she'd bought him in St. Louis, and his perspiration after their often-vigorous lovemaking…minus the leather oil and the smell of horse, she smiled to herself. All at once, eyes closed and aching, she understood Cara's purpose in turning her onto her stomach and away from her.

"Don't stop," Kitty pleaded and, mercifully, she did not. Cara surveyed the beautiful body laid out before her while rhythmically stoking the fire in Kitty's core. Finally, her breath coming in gasps, the flames licking higher and higher until, trembling, she shattered, stifling her cries with the very blanket that smelled so like the big lawman she loved.


	5. Envy

Adore  
Alex Parks

Lose me, do you see me?  
Round and round once more  
I do adore you

Are you beneath me? I see you  
Release me, pain's a bore  
But you live inside me  
Feel it once again

When I know you're hurting know your selfish ways  
Won't you risk yourself for me, 'cause I'm an unwanted release  
Release,  
Are you  
Feeling once again

You bruised me, I felt you leave  
Not my fault that I fell so hard onto you  
Did I scare you?  
Are you my phantom girl?  
When I see you I ache  
When I feel you await  
Have you heard I adore you

I feel it once again  
And I know you're hurting, know your selfish way  
Won't you risk yourself for me? 'cause I'm an unwanted release  
Release  
Are you

Are you?  
Are you?  
Living safe and sound  
Try and lay you down  
'cause I can't get around  
I feel it once again  
And I know you're hurting know your selfish way  
Won't you risk yourself for me 'cause I'm an unwanted release  
Release  
Are you?

Lose me,  
Do you,  
See me?

Songwriters: Alex Parks / Greg Wells

Chapter Text

Cara wasn't really sure what she felt, as she stared at Kitty's sleeping form in the lamp light. There was a tightness in her chest, which sprang from the understanding that this would all have to end when the marshal returned to Dodge City…whenever that was. Studying Kitty's sleeping face, she wasn't sure what she wanted, other than more of her; more of her time, more of her magnificent body, more of her generous soul, more of her guarded heart, just _more._ It was a feeling she had never felt before, a feeling that made her ache with longing. She was very sure that not seeing Kitty this way and never being with her like this again was the furthest thing from what she wanted, but Kitty had already made it clear that there was no place for her. After all, Kitty had told her that she loved Matt Dillon, and that there could never be more between she and Cara because of it. Yet, she'd still brought Cara into her bed and, after she herself had been left thoroughly sated and breathless, Kitty had made love to her as if she were the only other human being on the planet worth spending her time with. They were both very experienced as working girls, but Cara couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed an assignation as much as this one. Perhaps it was because she had never enjoyed one quite as much as this. As she watched Kitty sleep, she realized that she never wanted to leave this room, the weight of that knowledge slowly crushing her. How long would Kitty let this go on between the two of them? Until the marshal came back? Longer? While she was entirely sure that Matt Dillon had his merits, she was not his staunchest supporter. How could she be? He had the only thing that she wanted, the only thing in the entire world worth having, Cara realized, swallowing hard, and he wasn't even there to enjoy her. The lamp light shown through Kitty's hair, warming its copper strands in the darkness, making its sparkling embers dance with each intake of breath. How could anyone go off for weeks or months and leave this gorgeous woman alone to fend for herself in one of the most dangerous lines of work in town? Sure, she could take care of herself, _most of the time_ , fire goddess that she was, but what about the other times? Didn't her big marshal worry about leaving her here, with all these men, in a pleasure palace, of all places? Why didn't he just marry her? It isn't as if Kitty would have turned him down. Of course, Cara thought to herself, smirking, it wasn't one of these men whom Kitty had chosen as her bedfellow last night. She had chosen her. From all of the options a beautiful woman like Kitty Russell undoubtedly had available, she'd chosen her. The thought of having to share her or of losing her all together when the marshal eventually returned made Cara's chest ache.

"Cara?" Kitty murmured, stirring from sleep.

"Mmmm?" Cara replied, still cataloguing everything she could about the flame-haired being still lying in her arms. She was even attractive when she yawned, Cara thought, a small, private smile spreading across her very serious-looking countenance.

"Honey, you have to go," Kitty said groggily. "The other girls will notice if you stay here over night," she explained. "It's better if you leave now, while everyone is asleep."

Though she had expected it, Kitty's words still felt like a punch in the gut. The adoration in Cara's eyes gradually shifted to a deep sadness, tinged with anger. Looking away, she gathered her thoughts, and rounded on Kitty.

"Why? Do you think he'll come back tonight?" Cara said evenly, leveling a defiant gaze in Kitty's direction. "You wouldn't want him to find me here, would you?" Comprehension and alarm passing in quick succession across Kitty's face, she reached for Cara, gently smoothing the dusky tendrils framing the look of hurt on her lovely face.

"You knew this couldn't be more," she said softly, perceiving the twinge in her own chest at having to verbalize it. She'd never intended to hurt the girl. In fact, she'd thought it safer to pass the night with someone from the trade. She'd clearly misjudged Cara and was now desperately wondering if she'd live to regret it. She wanted to ease her pain, but couldn't think of a way to comfort her, not any way that wouldn't make their parting worse, that is.

"Well, he isn't here, you know," Cara spat, "and he should be."

"I know," Kitty replied, returning her gaze with a look of profound concern, her blue eyes sparkling.

"He doesn't deserve you, Kitty," Cara whispered, looking into her eyes with deep sincerity. Returning her intense gaze, Kitty choked back tears, the dam inside her finally breaching despite her best efforts.

Taking Kitty's face into her hands, she planted an infinitesimally slow, wet kiss on her soft lips. Kitty returned the kiss tenderly, sighing when she decided she should pull away, for both their sakes.

"Cara, you really must go," she said, more firmly this time. "Your wages for the evening are here on the nightstand," she added, motioning from the bed to the table beside her. Cara rose, seemingly to collect the money from the table. Touching each coin with care, she counted them. It was a complete night's wages, the price of a full-evening upstairs rendezvous, plus some. Kitty had been more than generous in her consideration of the value of Cara's time. It was extravagant, and to Cara's utmost surprise, it made her feel tawdry and cheap. Turning, she sauntered to the chair where her dress lay next to Kitty's, and began to pull it on over her head. Once it was mostly secured, she fished a few more coins out of a secret pocket, grabbed her shoes, and made her way back to Kitty.

"Seeing as I got so much more out of this than you did, I wouldn't dream of accepting your money," she said, staring down at Kitty from her standing position of power, the expression in her eyes like the ocean raging in a tempest. "In fact," she continued, pointedly sucking her teeth, "…by my reckoning, I'm the one who owes _you_ for your services," she said scathingly. Dropping a fistful of coins unceremoniously onto the bed next to the woman she now perceived that she loved, Cara turned on her heels, leaving before hot tears could fall onto her cheeks, Kitty calling quietly after her.


	6. Revision

It was 9 o'clock in the morning when a certain titian-haired saloon proprietress finally decided to roll out of bed to her own displeasure. She'd slept terribly since her fight with Cara the night before and, as such, didn't see the point in tossing and turning in her bed, trying to wish it all away any longer. Awash in the pink ruffles of her dressing gown, Kitty seated herself at her dresser and pondered heading down to Delmonico's for breakfast, or simply having some coffee in the confines of the Long Branch. The surly expression that greeted her in the looking glass made her decision for her. She wasn't interested in socializing, and if she went to Delmonico's she was likely to run into Doc or Festus or…Matt, a thought that made her heart skip a beat, but not in the usual way. She closed her eyes against the idea that, for the first time in her memory, she was _afraid_ to see Matt Dillon. In her heart of hearts, she couldn't accept the idea that he was dead because, well, she would know. At least, she had always thought that she would know somehow. It had been weeks, months, an eternity, and no one had seen hide, nor hair of him. She'd asked everyone, even dropping hints in the saloon whenever it was safe to do so, and nothing. No one knew a single thing. It was as maddening as it was disheartening, but she just couldn't give up on the idea that he was still alive out there somewhere. Brushing her hair slowly, she thought of all the things that could have befallen him, all of them terrible. Startled, she nearly dropped her brush when she heard someone rapping on the door to her room.

"Who is it?" Kitty asked, taken aback that anyone would be knocking at this hour. Of course, the Long Branch was closed. She had held a glimmer of hope that it would be Matt, until she realized she hadn't heard any footfall on the stairs.

"Kitty…" came a feminine voice from the hallway, "I came to apologize for…" The door swung open to reveal a contrite and surprised, mid-sentence Cara clad in some of the finest riding gear Kitty had ever laid eyes on. Though she was startled by how swiftly Kitty had opened the door, Cara recovered quickly, flashing her a gorgeous smile before continuing with her request for forgiveness. "…for being unkind to you last night, and most of all, for being unfair. You made things clear to me from the beginning and…," Cara persisted, looking down at her gloved hands before resuming her speech, "I let my own feelings cloud my better judgement," she finished. Kitty regarded her imperiously at first, as only she could, in the confines of her own establishment, in her dressing gown, with no makeup on, but she gradually softened when she perceived the sincerity of her words.

"Come in, Cara," Kitty said, opening the door wider and standing to the side.

"Oh, I couldn't. I still have so much left to do," Cara replied, sweetly. "Listen, Kitty, I'd like to make it up to you, if you'll let me," she said, eyeing her through long, dark lashes. Kitty, arms crossed in front of her frilled dressing gown, eyed her with curiosity.

"I know now just how special a certain marshal is to you," she continued, looking at her fixedly, "but…I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't at least try."

"What exactly do you mean 'try'?" Kitty questioned in a brusque tone.

"I'd like to try to show you what it could be like to be with someone," she added tentatively, her eyes searching Kitty's, "who could and would put you first." With a quick intake of breath, Kitty stared back at the beautiful woman in her doorway as if she were seeing her for the first time. She was utterly shocked and left speechless by her words, which was somewhat of a novelty for Kitty Russell. Cara's proposition was impossible. Two women couldn't carry on like this in the light of day, not in Dodge City, not anywhere.

"Cara, while I appreciate what you're saying and what you're trying to do, how could you and I ever be together? It isn't something that women do, and it isn't something that people accept," Kitty finished, a look of sadness in her eyes at having to say those words to someone so obviously in love with her.

"Is it really any different from how you and the marshal have been carrying on the past few years? Is it any different from how you've carried on for the entire length of your relationship?" Cara challenged, greenish-blue eyes flashing. "When have you known a town to accept women like us, or what we've done to earn a living? You're a business-owner, a marvel in your own right and yet, the taint of what you've had to do to get here will always be upon you as long as you remain unmarried. You've pretended to be friends with the marshal all these years because it's indecent to be honest about your relationship, and because it is dangerous for people to know you're his woman," she said, staring deeply into Kitty's sapphire eyes. "Even knowing the stain that rests upon you for it, Matt Dillon won't marry you. He can't. He'll never give you children or a home, as long as he's a U.S. marshal." Kitty pondered the validity of what she'd said. Not a word of it had been untrue, but it hurt all the same. In fact, the truth of her words was almost too much to bear. Stepping closer, Cara brought her gloved hand to Kitty's soft, pink cheek, just as the tears began to sting her tired eyes.

"Well, neither can I," Cara continued, locking eyes with her. "I can't give you children, I can't be known as your consort by the light of day, I can't be named as more than your dear friend, and I can't," she swallowed hard, "…marry you," a look of profound regret in her downcast eyes, "but…I can give you some of what he can't or won't give," she added, meeting Kitty's confused gaze head-on. "I can give you a home together, somewhere away from the prying eyes of Dodge City gentry. I can be by your side, always, through the good and bad times, no matter what." Taking Kitty's tear-stained face in both of her gloved hands, Cara persisted, "If you'll let me, I could give you a happy life. It would be a life where every holiday and every birthday were spent together, a life where we share the same dreams because we share the same past, and above all, it would be a life where you would never have to come second _ever_ again. Tell me that you'll at least consider it." Racking sobs shook Kitty's small frame and she couldn't answer. Instead, she stepped away from Cara, locking the door behind them, before falling, broken, into her arms.


	7. Affirmation

"Kitty…Kitty, open up," called a faint voice from the darkness. Kitty turned in her sleep.

"Matt?" she called out. "Where are you?"

"Kitty…," the voice called out again, louder this time, and with more urgency. Kitty woke with a start, alone in bed in her darkened bedroom. Rubbing her hand across her eyes and face as she panted, she realized it was only a dream and, pulling her knees to her chest, she felt hot tears begin to prick her sleepy eyes.

"Kitty, you awake, honey?" called a familiar voice from the hall. All at once, it was as if she'd been dunked in ice water. It was mere seconds before panic set in. Cara…she had been with her last night when she'd gone to bed, but she wasn't here now. Where was she?

"Just a minute, Matt," she called out in a quiet voice, trying to keep her tone even. Sliding down from her bed Kitty reached to light the lamp on the nightstand, then made her way to light the lamp on the dresser, before throwing on and securing her dressing gown to answer the door. Cara was nowhere to be found. This fact, while concerning, relieved her immensely. Cara must have slipped out after she fell asleep, and while she knew she had to tell Matt about what had happened between them during his absence, him returning home to find her in Kitty's bed would have been just too much. Hand trembling, she reached for the door handle, opening it to reveal the tired, ruggedly handsome face of the somewhat worse for wear lawman she loved.

"Matt! Where have you been?" Kitty questioned, pulling him into the room and into her arms in a crushing embrace. Pressing her cheek against his chest, Kitty failed to notice the grimace she'd elicited with her enthusiastic attentions. "It's been weeks and I haven't heard a thing!" she mumbled against his shirt. "I've been so worried," she finished, the tears in her eyes falling softly onto her cheeks just as she pulled back to look into his face. "If I wasn't so happy to see you, I'd strangle you myself!" she said, only half-joking as she wiped her tears away.

"Kitty, you're a sight for sore eyes," he said, chuckling at her threat as he regarded her intently. Her hair fell softly in flaming tendrils around her face as she stared up at him, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes. In that moment, he felt it all had been worth it. Pulling her tightly to him, he buried his hands in her hair and kissed her. He kissed her like he was starving for her touch, like he'd thought he would never see her again. It left her head spinning and her chest aching with guilt. She had so many questions for him. Yet, there was also a revelation of a somewhat pressing nature weighing upon her mind and heart that needed to be addressed.

"Matt, there's something I've got to tell you before this gets too far," Kitty attempted to say between fevered kisses.

"Can't it wait?" Matt whispered against her lips. Pulling back to gaze into his eyes, she swallowed hard against the words she needed to say. Something had happened to him, that much was apparent. He wanted her, but it was for something more than mere physical comfort…he was _hurting_. She was upset that he hadn't even bothered to tell her where he'd been, but in his piercing blue eyes she saw most of what she needed to know. A lump was rising in her throat. She was so relieved that he was alive. She had positively ached with missing him and with worry. Now that he was here she couldn't deny him, she never had been able to deny him anything anyway. Reaching for the sash of her dressing gown she deftly pulled the tie, the front of her gown slowly falling open in front of him. From the look in his eyes, he couldn't have been with anyone else while he was away. He looked at her with such longing, such hunger that it was almost startling in its intensity. While it aroused her, it also made her feel tremendously guilty. Biting her bottom lip, she raked her fingers through his curly hair, bringing his lips to hers again. It could wait. Everything else, but this could wait, Kitty reasoned. Taking his hand, she led him to her bed and gently pushed him down onto it. Kissing him again, she began to undress him, taking off his boots and then planting slow, wet kisses down his neck as she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Kitty," he said, stilling both of her hands against his chest with one large hand before she could remove his shirt. "I have things I need to tell you, too," he continued, staring up at her, "but just not tonight," he finished with a pained expression on his face. The longer she stared, the more the look in his eyes morphed from haggard to haunted. The fact that he hadn't yet released her hands did not escape her notice. It frightened her to see him this way.

"Matt, you're scaring me," Kitty whispered.

"Promise me," he added. "Promise that you won't ask me tonight," he requested impassively. Kitty was silent for a long while. Finally, a sigh and a curt nod signaled her acquiescence.

"I promise," she breathed, wondering what she was getting herself into. It was only then that he released her hands. Seconds later she apprehended exactly why he'd held her until she'd given her word. As she began to unbutton his shirt by the lamp light she realized that he wasn't wearing an undershirt. Staggering blues, purples, greens, and yellows became visible all over his chest, just above where the fabric of his button-down shirt yawned open. Before she could stop herself, she yanked his shirt apart, popping the majority of its remaining buttons off all over the wooden floor at her feet, her breath entering her lips with a hiss. She looked up at his face then, she couldn't help herself. Everything in his being said it wasn't open for discussion. She swallowed all her unasked questions, instead averting her gaze and saying nothing as she took his gun belt into hand, unfastened and deposited it on the bedpost before returning to help him out of his trousers. Finally, she held her breath as she stepped out of the lamp light to get a better look at the multitude of discolorations all over his body.

"Oh, Matt…," she gasped, fresh tears stinging her eyes. What she saw broke her heart. He was covered in angry bruises from nearly head to toe, the color spectrum of which revealed to her that some were weeks old, while others were reasonably fresh, some as fresh as a day or two ago.

"Is anything broken? Have you been up to see Doc?" she questioned.

"Not yet," he sighed, "but look, Kitty, that isn't important right now."

"Well, I don't know about that, Cowboy," she said, eyeing his injuries appraisingly. "If something _is_ broken we could hurt you worse, and I'd never forgive myself if I did that."

"Kitty, nothing is broken. I think I'd know by now if it was," he replied cryptically. Taking her hands into his, he pulled her to him.

"Listen, I'd have washed up, but after leaving Buck at the stable I came straight here. I had to see you. I need you," he finished with a pleading look in his eyes that was completely overpowering. Despite his actual words and the tenuous nature of his physical condition, he wasn't asking, he was telling. As Kitty stared back, unsure of what to do, he laced the fingers of his right hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and planted a scorching kiss on her lips that left her breathless and yearning to comply.

"Lie back," she ordered, gently pushing him down as she climbed atop him in her open dressing gown. She was a vision, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he couldn't bring himself to say it. He hoped that she knew.

"If we're going to do this I don't want to risk hurting you any worse than you already are. Now…," she said, eyeing him shrewdly, "you'd better tell me if you have any pain."

"Not a chance," he chuckled as he smiled up at her genuinely, running his big hands down her sides and resting them on her lower back just beneath her gown and above her rounded derrière.

"Matt! I'm serious!" she chastised.

"So am I," he whispered, his throat going dry as he took in the painfully beautiful picture she made climbing him, her bare chest peeking from the frills of her gown with each careful movement, and that very familiar look of annoyance glinting in her sapphire eyes. He loved everything about her, _everything_ , but that wasn't something he'd ever managed to put into words. Sitting up, she shrugged her dressing gown from her shoulders, where it mostly caught at her elbows. Gently, Matt pulled at the sleeves of her gown until, freed from her pale, lightly freckled arms, it slid to the floor in a ruffled heap. Kitty's copper hair spilled over her shoulders and down her chest in dancing embers that flickered by lantern light as she gingerly straddled him.

"Hold on tight, Cowboy," she commanded, a reluctant smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, I aim to," Matt quipped, taking her face into his hands and staring into her eyes acutely as he added, "There's no buckin' me, honey. I've escaped the fires of Hell to make my way back to you and I'd do it again if I had to." Kitty couldn't breathe. It was the closest thing to 'I love you' that she'd ever heard from him. Regaining her composure, she ventured a reply.

"Keep talkin' like that and I won't turn you loose until morning…or ever," she bantered, shooting him a penetrating look.

"I'll stay as long as you'll have me," he breathed quietly.

"Oh, Matt…," was all she managed to say, but in that moment she knew. She'd never loved him more.


End file.
